


My Friend, My Love.

by Nutbuttaz



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Dad!Vesemir, Dom/sub, Emotional Constipation, Everybody was Kung-fu fucking, Everyone is Bisexual and Nothing Hurts, F/F, F/M, Femdom, Idiots in Love, Inappropriate use of Chaos, Kaer Morhen, Lil Ciri, Love they have a hard time with Love, M/M, Multi, Pegging, Polyamory, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Yennefer and Geralt struggle with the L word, Yennefer/Geralt endgame
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-02-23 05:16:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23972896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nutbuttaz/pseuds/Nutbuttaz
Summary: Geralt and Yen reunite in Kaer Morhen after the Battle of Sodden Hill.They have to find a way to live together and love each other for Ciri’s sake... and the resulting arrangement is not what either expected.
Relationships: Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Eskel/Lambert (The Witcher), Eskel/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Yennefer/Margarita
Comments: 30
Kudos: 61





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi friends!!
> 
> So this is a book-verse “fix it” following the Battle of Sodden Hill, and Geralt finding his Child Surprise. 
> 
> Eskel’s magic hands are canon as is his deeper than brother bond with Geralt. So, like, come at me? Haha
> 
> I’m excited for this journey. Enjoy.

“Alone at last, _my friend_.” Yennefer’s voice was the stuff of masculine nightmares, so sweet and so _so_ full of venomous rage all at once. Like she was whetting her knife for castrating him and using the sharpened blade to slice a pie first. _Here little puppy, come have a sweet before I gut you._

“Yen… anyone could have read it,” Geralt started with his hands raised in supplication. He had kicked his own ass for addressing a letter to her as his ‘friend’ ever since she responded in kind, her handwriting of ‘friend’ so boldly written and widely scrawled that he could feel her rage at the moniker from hundreds of miles away. 

Oh, he knew he had fucked up.

“I didn’t hear from you… for months…” Yen was circling around him like a predator. Her circular bedroom in the tower of Kaer Morhen wasn’t large, but it had a nice enough circumference to stalk her prey before striking. The Witcher stood in the middle of the room, hands clenched at his sides, cringing at every word she said. Looking guilty. _Good_. “...you have no idea what I’ve been through-“

“-I thought you were _dead_!” That final word left Geralt’s mouth with a crack of emotion. He sought out Yen’s violet eyes, searching them for pity. “The memorial obelisk at Sodden had your name on it. Yen, I thought you were gone forever. That’s why I sought out Triss. Not because I had a _choice_.”

“Or so you thought.” Yennefer watched the pain in his face, the layers of emotion there. It didn’t ease her own pain caused by the words he had said on the mountain, nor his binding of her fate to him without her consent. Didn’t ease the love and desire she felt underneath that pain, softening the edges of her anger against her will. Gods, it was enough to make her crazy. “How long after Triss informed you I was not dead did you wait to contact me?! I’ll tell you- months!” she snapped, feeling the burn of fire in her veins ready to strike. _No, control yourself, go back inside_ , she closed her eyes and willed the force of Chaos inwards. The heat settled in her core, licking unpleasantly at her diaphragm with every exhale. _Fine, stay there._

“What difference does it make, Yen?” Geralt gritted, unaware of her internal struggle. “If she could help Ciri, then-“

Yen’s eyes flew open, indignant. “-then you’d have no use for me at all!”

That was it. That was Geralt’s breaking point. Two big, strong hands caught Yennefer’s shoulders and stopped her from circling him, holding her firmly to face him. His face was angry, but his eyes were gentle. When he spoke it was with that restrained, careful tone he used when he let himself be vulnerable around her. “ _Then_ , Yen? Then I could have met you under happier circumstances. Under a roof that doesn’t creak in the wind. Somewhere with flowers and sunshine and not... fucking _snow_ and _Lambert_ and no escape from the _bullshit_ of existence.” Geralt snarled and released her shoulders, dragging his hands through his hair now. He breathed deeply and closed his eyes. His nostrils flared and Yen knew he was drinking in her scent. Lilac and gooseberries. 

The sorceress watched him, crossing her arms over her chest stubbornly. “And you think these… hm, sweet?... words are going to charm me, my friend?”

Geralt growled, opening his eyes and staring her down. “No.”

“Good, because I’ve had quite enough of you for today. I’m not here for you, _friend_. I’m here for the Child of the Elder Blood. And I’m expecting company tonight, so run along now unless you want his sloppy seconds.”

Geralt scoffed at that. If that was how she wanted to play, that was fine by him. He loved her desperately, and she irritated him in equal measure. He wasn’t proud of the nasty comeback his mind supplied him with, but he couldn’t hold it back from escaping his mouth. “What, found a ghost in the laboratory willing to tickle your cunt? I hope you two enjoy yourselves, _friend_.” He turned on his heel and threw open the door of the tower bedroom, almost colliding head first with Eskel. He met his brother’s eyes, just for a moment, too angry at Yennefer to even entertain the same emotion for Eskel. He didn’t care at this point. He knew Yennefer had timed Eskel’s arrival so that their paths would cross and rile him. He sighed in mental exhaustion and pushed past Eskel towards the stairs. 

“Geralt,” Eskel called softly, a question in his tone. Geralt spared one glance back at him, shrugging his shoulders.

“I’ve no claim on her.” It was a lie, but as far as Yen was concerned it was the truth. Geralt hurried down the stairs without waiting to see what Eskel would do. He didn’t want to hear Yennefer greet him, didn’t want to hear her voice seducing him, didn’t want to know what Eskel would say back. 

All he wanted was for Yen to feel his love for her and believe it. 

So: all he wanted was the impossible.

He cleared the stairs and found his bedroom on the second floor with memorized steps, his mind far away and drowning in regret. What he could’ve said, what he should’ve done, why didn’t he just kiss her, whywhywhy. He flung open the door and sighed. He had hoped for some peace tonight and yet here was his child surprise rolled up in a fur blanket on his bed, asleep on some volume of no doubt enthralling information about draconids or fae or botany. He eased off his boots and slid under the blankets next to her, gently tucking a hand under her cheek and lifting her head so he could remove the book. She would have a wicked kink in her neck if she slept all night like that. Vesemir wouldn’t care, he would send her off to run the Killer in pain. ‘ _Monsters don’t care about neck aches, they’ll kill you all the same’_ , Geralt was sure the old Witcher would say. 

“Couldn’t sleep,” she mumbled, rolling towards him and the heat of his body. He pulled the blankets over her and tucked her in before casting Igni towards the fireplace, just enough for a warm glowing heat. Geralt hummed softly and wrapped one arm around the girl, listening to her breathing even and space apart as she fell back to sleep. He smiled to himself, realizing that his mental agony had slipped away in the few minutes he had just spent caring for Ciri. Maybe that was a sign from the universe, to give up on wasted romance and save his caring for this child who needed him. He sighed and nuzzled against the head of ash blonde hair tucked into his chest. Not lilac and gooseberries, but just as sweet. Just as loved.

  
  
  


——-

  
  
  


“ _Oh_ , Rita was right, these hands are _wicked,_ ” Yennefer purred. Eskel paused, grinning at the sorceress spread out on the bed beneath him. This was round… three? Mm. It was all starting to blend together in a sleepy, pleasured haze. Yen’s ankles were clasped around his lower back, holding him inside her though they had both finished minutes ago. Eskel was smoothing his hands up Yennefer’s belly, over her ribcage and breasts, around her shoulders and neck, then down her arms and returning to his starting point. The sorceress was shivering at the vibrations his palms spread over her skin, nipples flushed dark pink and hard when he paused there for a torturous moment to circle them.

“How is Mistress Margarita faring?” Eskel asked politely, as if he wasn’t so intimately connected to his conversational partner. He rocked forward. Yennefer moaned and moved her hips to meet his. Red-painted fingernails scratched down his chest, snagging cruelly on a raised scar. 

“She’s… wonderful… sends her regards,” Yennefer sighed in between slow thrusts. She yelped when Eskel’s thumb flicked over her clit, the energy beneath his skin vibrating on her so, so sweetly. “Mm… she said if - ah, you ever wanted to learn, mmm… to channel Chaos… oh! _Ohh_ …”

Eskel chuckled as the sorceress was reduced to a squirming, breathless creature beneath his touch. “Let me guess, she’d teach me in exchange for this?” Yennefer nodded, her eyes rolling back as he pressed harder against her clit. Now for the _pièce de résistance_ … Eskel cast Igni, so gently, just the faintest brush of throbbing heat against her sensitive bud in addition to the vibrations, and she screamed so loudly Eskel was sure she’d woken the entire castle. He withdrew his Sign and held her down as she thrashed and shook through her orgasm, her legs clenched tight around him.

She settled down, gasping for air and Eskel released her. With catlike grace he rolled onto the bed beside her, glancing a kiss on her shoulder as he went. “Tell her thank you, for recommending me to you,” he said with that gentlemanly tone. “But I am pleased with my profession as it is.” 

“Hmm, pity,” Yennefer sighed, brushing a trickle of sweat off her brow. “You have _such_ magical talents, Eskel.”

“And you think they’re wasted as a Witcher.”

“Not wasted,” she laughed breathlessly as his fingers grazed over her belly, the energy tickling her. “You are all a stubborn lot. Your moralities and rules. Sorcerers have more fun.”

“If you call politics and backstabbing fun, certainly.”

Yennefer sighed and rolled her eyes. She looked over at Eskel, relaxed and gloriously sweaty, so like Geralt in his mannerisms and humor. But hopefully not similar in ridiculous ideas of love.

“You’re a grown man, I don’t need to remind you this was a dalliance and nothing more?” Yennefer asked, suddenly having had quite enough of Witchers for one night. Eskel raised his eyebrows and returned an incredulous look.

“Beg pardon, Mistress Yennefer, I was under the impression you had forsaken your beloved for myself. A lesser version, perhaps, but just as satisfactory-“

“Enough of that,” Yennefer huffed. She curled a finger and her disheveled blankets swept over her, tucking her away from Eskel’s gaze and touch. Eskel smiled knowingly. “I see I’ve struck a chord. Worry not, Yennefer, I’m not interested in playing games,” the Witcher said softly as he stood and dressed himself. “The two of you, though, games are all you know… He _loves_ you, Yennefer.”

“Enough,” Yennefer snapped. 

Eskel didn’t relent. He leaned over the bed and snarled. “He came here _broken_ and _lost_ , Yennefer, at the thought of a life without you!”

“ENOUGH!” Yennefer screamed. The candles roared up and flickered. “You’ve overstayed your welcome, Eskel! Get out!”

Eskel watched her in amazement, unaffected by her temper. He shook his head and picked up his boots, walking away barefoot. “You don’t deserve him, Yennefer. Good night.”

 _Fuck off_ , Yennefer thought bitterly as she buried her face in a pillow and growled in anger. She should’ve known Eskel would be loyal to his brother, even after bedding Geralt’s love - no, _not_ love, fuck. This was ridiculous. _Enough._ She sat up and reached for her satchel, digging up a sleeping potion from amongst her travel essentials. She extinguished the candles in her room before downing the potion, settling onto her pillows and counting down until blessed silence took her away. 

_Don’t deserve him…_

_Sunshine and flowers…._

_Love._

  
  
  


———

  
  
  


The tension at breakfast the next morning could have been cut with a knife. But, as usual, it was cut by Lambert being a wiseass. The younger Witcher sipped his mug of tea loudly. “Why the long faces? What? Were those not screams of pleasure I heard last night?”

“Fuck off, Lambert,” was the resounding response from Yennefer, Geralt, and Eskel almost in unison. Lambert sat back, eyebrows wiggling in delight.

“That was _almost_ the record for me! Good effort, all around. Gotta beat six ‘fuck offs’ at once, though. Man, those dwarves are a tough crowd to charm, nasty mouths too, would not recommend asking about their mums’ beards-“

“Lambert?” Vesemir cut in, clearing his throat.

“Yeah boss?” 

“How about you take your energy and run drills with the girl?”

Lambert rolled his eyes and swiped a piece of bacon off a platter before standing up. He held out an arm to Ciri, who got up and tucked herself under his wing. They were all uncles to her by now, even the gruff ones. “C’mon, lion cub, the adults need to talk about their feelings.” Ciri giggled at that and sprinted out of the hall at Lambert’s urging, who chased behind her lazily.

“Now,” Vesemir turned back to Geralt and Eskel. “I’m pleased to have our esteemed guest here to help Ciri. I’ll not have my sons fighting over something as foolish as affairs of the heart. Sort this out between yourselves, or eat in your own rooms tonight. And Lady Yennefer, I apologize on behalf of Lambert’s crudeness.”

Yennefer nodded her head. The two Witchers murmured their assent, and Vesemir stood up with a sigh and retreated to the kitchen. Awkward silence filled the hall. Eskel was the first to break.

“Well, I bear neither of you ill will. I hope you two would agree this is your mess to sort out and not mine,” Eskel swung his legs over the bench and stood. “Geralt, if you want to...” _Beat my face or wreck my ass or both_ , but he wasn’t going to say that in front of the lady. Geralt nodded to Eskel but didn’t take his eyes off Yennefer. Like Borch had said, if he looked away maybe he’d never see her again. 

Yennefer waited until Eskel had left the hall to meet Geralt’s intense gaze. She sucked in a breath, expecting the pain and irritation but not that soft look of love, patient and unending. She wanted to shake him, beat him until he believed she didn’t want him, didn’t deserve him. Under that gaze, she faltered in believing those things, herself.

“I’m not angry,” Geralt started. “About Eskel. You are free to be with who you want. You always were. Always will.”

“Geralt,” Yennefer gritted out. “Stop talking about us like we’re together. We’re not.”

“No, how could we be?” Geralt retorted. “You, determined to be dead. Me, wanting better than a cold castle in which to reunite.”

“Rather incompatible goals,” Yennefer replied. “You would’ve known that if you’d taken a moment to acquaint me before, oh, binding our destinies together.”

“I didn’t want you to die,” Geralt growled. “I didn’t wish for you to love me, or want me. I wanted your _safety_.”

“If that’s true then how would you believe I was dead, even if the obelisk bore my name? Wouldn’t you have felt the string of destiny cut between us?”

“I was sure I would die. I brought Ciri to Kaer Morhen as quickly as I could thinking it was coming for me at any turn. _Yes_ , I believed it. And I nearly wanted it.” There was moisture in Geralt’s eyes and he didn’t try to wipe the tears away, nor cared if they fell. “Yennefer, I have never in my life wanted anyone or anything the way I want you. I… fuck, I… _Yen_ , what must I do for you to believe me?”

Yennefer watched him, unknowing. Feeling cold wrap around her heart. Fear? “Geralt. I’ll _never_ be your wife. I’ll _never_ bear you children. I’ll _never_ want only you. Do you understand?”

“I don’t care about those things. I just want _you_.”

Yennefer looked down at her hands, unable to bear the plea in Geralt’s lovesick eyes. She was still angry at him, but the rough edges were melting away slowly. Underneath it her heart, smooth and warm like everyone else’s, wondered vaguely how horrible it would be to be cared for, to love and be loved. 

“Time,” her voice came out raspy and she cleared her throat. “Give me time, to know my heart.”

The weight on Geralt’s chest lifted just a bit. It wasn’t a no. That’s all that mattered, was that it wasn’t a no. “Yes,” he agreed quickly. “Time. When you’re ready to talk again… you know where to find me.”

It was perhaps the worst joke Yennefer had ever heard. And yet she smiled just a bit. 

  
  


——-

  
  


Geralt crept down the corridor to Eskel’s room, feeling like a naughty child under the cloak of darkness. He couldn’t risk having Eskel come to him, not with Ciri popping up unpredictably. The child would have enough to deal with in the years to come without the trauma of seeing her adopted father balls deep in another man’s ass.

As soon as he closed Eskel’s door behind him, a warm body pounced on him and pinned him against the door. Soft, scarred lips pressed against his mouth, claiming him. Geralt groaned against Eskel’s lips, arching his back to press their bodies together. _Closer_ , the unspoken plea. _Now, I need you._ Eskel growled in response and stripped Geralt. He was already naked himself, waiting in the darkness pent up and teasing his cock. The sound of Geralt’s soft footsteps had made him drip with precum. That slickness brushed against Geralt’s naked thigh now, making the White Wolf moan hungrily.

Eskel tugged him towards the bed, moving to kneel and present his ass to Geralt’s mercy. But Geralt stopped him with a firm grip on his nape, pushing in front of him to take Eskel’s place. “Tonight,” Geralt rasped. “I need you.” It wasn’t unheard of, or undone. Simply not common. He keened at the sensation of Eskel’s hands stroking soothingly over his chest, down his sides, gripping at his ass. Those hands. Geralt knew about the sensation they caused for sorcerers but he had never felt it, himself. What he did feel was the safety of home, of a purer love than romance, of the comfort and belonging he’d felt since childhood. 

Eskel laid Geralt down on his back, spreading his knees and reaching for the tin of slick he’d placed on the bed in preparation for the night. He opened Geralt slowly, tenderly while Geralt stroked himself. Soft, panting moans filled the room as Eskel pressed inside him. Geralt pushed himself onto his elbows so that he could be closer to Eskel, and his brother wrapped an arm around his back to cradle his head in his strong grip. Geralt growled, not satisfied with the amount of contact. He let Eskel slip out of him and gripped his brother’s shoulders to toss him against the head of the bed. He crawled onto Eskel’s lap and sunk onto his cock easily, riding it at his leisure. Eskel took the hint and wrapped both arms around Geralt, caressing every inch of skin he could find.

“Why,” Eskel groaned against pale, scarred skin. “She doesn’t deserve you, Geralt, I told her as much.”

Geralt hmm’d, grateful for the cock inside him stretching him too full to think about Yennefer’s lack of love for him. _Eskel, safe, loved, mine._ He cried out as Eskel pumped up into him faster and deeper and possessively. Teeth on his shoulder, then his neck, gnawing bruises into his skin. “Doesn’t deserve you,” Eskel repeated, breath hitching in his throat as Geralt clenched around his cock. He sucked on the soft skin beneath Geralt’s ear, moaning his pleasure as Geralt met him thrust for thrust. 

“ _Eskel_ ,” Geralt whimpered as that fat cock rubbed against his sweetest spot over and over. In these moments he felt crazy for wanting anything else, for aching for anything except Eskel’s cock. The moans slipped through his lips faster and louder and maybe Yennefer screamed when she came on his cock last night but so could Geralt and-

“ _AH_!” Geralt yelled, trembling and shaking against Eskel as his orgasm ripped through him, streaks of cum splattering between their bellies. Eskel followed after him, pushing deep and releasing inside Geralt’s tight ass. Geralt relaxed against his shoulder, nuzzling into his neck where his pulse point and pheromones met in a dizzyingly sweet dance. _Safe. Loved. Eskel._

“Here, I’m here,” Eskel soothed him, hands rubbing up and down his back and then resting on the back of his neck to scratch and hold. His cock softened and he pulled out, but let Geralt rest in his lap. His brother hadn’t retreated from his arms, and he wasn’t going to push him away after the lines he had crossed last night. 

“I love her,” Geralt whispered brokenly. Eskel tightened his grip, wishing it weren’t so. That sorceress had no right to the heart he’d held safe for a century.

“Then make her earn it, I beg you,” Eskel whispered back. The wind shrieked in the distance where it whistled between patched bricks. Geralt sighed against Eskel’s neck, pressing one more kiss there.

“I’ll try.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized I screwed up the timeline already 😂 Ummm in the books Geralt doesn’t send that stupid letter until after Ciri has left Kaer Morhen. I’m thinking the show might skip over the Temple of Ellander since we haven’t met Nenneke yet, soooo let’s just pretend this timeline works. Okay? Alright. Thank you. Lol


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that Coën’s name only has the correct accent in half this chapter. My autocorrect really wanted him to be Corn and I had to rage quit trying to fix the spelling. 
> 
> Margarita’s character description is based off the book not the games.

Ciri’s days were split between training with her Witchers and learning the rudiments of magic with Yennefer. To her dismay, this meant learning Elder Speech and writing runes until her tongue tripped over pronunciation and her hand cramped around her quill. It was terribly dull compared to fencing and acrobatics, and Yennefer was much more stern as a tutor than Triss. Not mean, but not lenient.

“I’ll never be good at this!” Ciri burst out, throwing down her quill after she had written her rune incorrectly for the _third_ time. “Why can’t I go train with my uncles?! I’m useless!”

Yennefer looked up from her nail file with a raised eyebrow and just a shade of annoyance on her face. “Child. If you become a great sorceress you’ll have no need for a sword to protect yourself. And to become a great sorceress you must be able to cast spells with the correct pronunciation or script. Now, if you insist on having an abysmal attitude, I’ll teach you to complain in Elder. We’ll start with your phrase, ‘I’m useless’.”

Ciri had felt so defeated after her first lesson that she cried as she ate dinner and didn’t even notice until Geralt’s gentle hands stroked the wetness off her cheeks. Geralt didn’t bring attention to it, and she was grateful because there was nothing more embarrassing than crying in front of all the adults. Geralt shifted a little closer to her on the bench, resting his elbow on the table to obscure her from view as he continued talking to Lambert, Coen, and Eskel as if nothing had happened. Ciri sniffled and wiped her nose on her sleeve, tucking into her bowl of stew with renewed vigor. Yennefer sat away from them at the end of the table, chatting pleasantly with Vesemir over a bottle of wine and completely ignoring the rest of the Witchers. Ciri watched her, despair sinking in her chest. She would never be as beautiful, strong, or intelligent as that sorceress, she was sure of it. Worse, she knew that there was something going on between her and Geralt. If Geralt had to choose one of them to keep, she was sure it would be Yennefer. And that made her want to cry again. 

“Hey,” a soft voice beside her startled her from her thoughts. Coën was crouching next to her, offering her his back. Ciri pushed away her empty bowl and climbed on without hesitation, wrapping her arms around Coën’s neck and hugging him tightly as he stood up and carried her across the Great Hall. The other hearth was set up with chairs and small tables for playing games, couches and furs for lounging and reading. This had become their routine. The young Witcher was exceptionally kind to her and took time to entertain her after dinner while the other Witchers got up to no good between drinking spirits, gambling, and playing aggressively competitive rounds of Gwent. 

Coen deposited her on the couch and dug through the box of card decks to find something to play. He had been teaching her the rules of Gwent and practicing with her, since the other Witchers didn’t have the patience to include her in their rounds. He pulled up a chair and a small table and handed her a deck. Ciri accepted it with a smile and went through the motions of organizing her deck and selecting her moves. 

“You’re distracted tonight,” Coën observed as he played his first card. He shook his head as Ciri went to set down her own card, only to hastily retreat her hand and select something else. Coen nodded his approval when she placed it on the table.

“What’s with Geralt and Yennefer?” Ciri blurted out, cringing and looking back at the dinner table to see if anyone had heard her. She looked back at Coën and whispered, “Are they together?”

Coën smirked and leaned forward, “I’ll tell you what I know…” Ciri’s eyes went wide and she leaned in, all ears. Coen paused for dramatic effect, flicking his eyes over to the dinner table as she had. He whispered, letting her cling to every word. “The thing about Geralt and the sorceress is…and this may shock you… that it’s none of your business.”

Ciri huffed dramatically and flopped back against the couch, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. “Thank you for that _really_ helpful information.”

Coen shrugged. “Yennefer is a secretive person and she wouldn’t want her student knowing her affairs. If you must know, ask Geralt... though I’m sure he’ll give you the same answer.”

Ciri sighed heavily, sitting up again to play a card. “I just want to _know_ before they abandon me for each other and leave me here alone.”

“First of all,” Coën started with a shake of his head, “it is truly childish to be jealous of Yennefer stealing Geralt’s attention from you. May I add, has she stolen him or is your imagination running wild? Because he and Yennefer haven’t spoken to each other in days, and he sits with _you_ every meal and lets _you_ fall asleep on his shoulder every night.”

Ciri ducked her head, feeling foolish. Coën continued, “Secondly, they are not going to abandon you. And I know you have been through too much to take my word for it right now. Try to believe me when I say Geralt would never do to you what was done to him as a child. If there’s anyone who knows about feeling abandoned it’s a Witcher.”

Ciri smiled sadly, reaching out to take the hand Coën offered her. He squeezed her reassuringly, then cleared his throat. “Alright, now, enough mushy feelings stuff. If you haven’t noticed I’m kicking your ass in Gwent.”

“Well I’m learning! So quit being mean!”

“Quit being bad at playing, then I’ll consider it!”

“Uuugh.”

  
  


———

  
  


Yennefer sat at the desk in her tower bedroom, brushing her bouncing curls in the large, gold-framed mirror she had conjured to replace the dingy, sad excuse of a looking glass the Witchers had offered her. Beauty maintenance wasn’t a chore but a stress relief, something she did to pass the time and care for herself. She was already growing bored of the company at Kaer Morhen. Usually she wouldn’t mind being the only lady amongst a group of strapping Witchers, but with two of them ignoring her, one staying aloof, and the other being Lambert, she didn’t have much in the way of entertainment. Oh, she would so much rather be back at the Temple in Ellander convalescing from her injuries at Sodden. Hell, even grumpy old Nenneke seemed like a fun time compared to this.

Her pendant was humming with magical energy and she knew before the portal opened behind her that a guest was arriving. She looked up into the mirror, delight spreading across her face. The warm fragrance of amber and spice filled the room and she breathed deeply, relaxing as soft and sure hands slid over her shoulders.

“Rita,” Yennefer hummed, reaching up a hand and caressing her friend’s face. The other sorceress laughed softly and dipped her hands beneath Yennefer’s dressing gown to squeeze her breasts. 

“You forgot a couple things at my place, _important_ things,” Margarita teased her. Yennefer looked back at the bag Rita had brought with her and grinned, knowing right away the contents. She played innocent, which Rita always enjoyed.

“Oh, what did I forget?” Yen asked with a flutter of her eyelashes, standing up slowly. Rita was a bit taller than her, with fuller curves and beautiful pale skin. Fair, wavy hair lay loose over her shoulders, cascading down her back. She was not at all dressed to be seen in public, wearing a sheer, fitted lingerie gown in a shade of rose that perfectly complimented her skin tone. Yennefer licked her lips. 

“These, to start,” Rita offered, closing the space between them and smoothing her lips over Yennefer’s slowly and sensuously. Yennefer moaned. “And these,” Rita whispered, slipping fingers between Yennefer’s legs and sinking into her heat greedily. Yennefer jerked in surprise before relaxing into Rita’s touch. Oh, at that moment she could forget boys. There was nothing in the world like a woman’s touch, and there was no woman in the world like Rita.

“Rita,” Yennefer sighed in pleasure. “Thank the gods you’re here.”

The other sorceress giggled. “Going that badly with the Witchers, hm? What about Eskel?”

“Had him, then upset him.” Yennefer whimpered as Rita guided her towards the bed by the two fingers curled inside Yen’s pussy. “ _You_ ,” Yen breathed, beyond turned on by Rita’s naughtiness. 

“What about me?” The twinkle in Rita’s eyes, her brilliant smile, the scent of her arousal had Yennefer’s knees feeling weak.

“You make me feel like I could never need a man again,” Yennefer moaned. Rita hummed in delight and uncurled her fingers, grabbing Yen’s ass and tumbling backwards on the bed in her arms. They kissed hungrily, curves pressed together, smooth legs sliding. The dressing gown and lingerie hit the floor, discarded. Rita paused and sat up to grab the bag, opening it urgently. 

“Your cock or mine?” she asked, holding up both and a harness. Yennefer considered for a split second before conceding.

“Fuck me with yours first,” Yen purred, rubbing herself impatiently. “And then I’m going to make love to you until the sun rises.”

Rita giggled and pulled on the harness, settling her magical lifelike cock in it and adjusting the soft leather straps with practiced ease. She wrapped a steady hand around Yen’s thigh and tugged her onto her belly, then grabbed two handfuls of Yen’s ass. “I’m sorry for this, but you’ll need it,” Rita apologized, casting a muting spell over Yen’s mouth before plunging inside her. Yen shrieked silently, grabbing handfuls of her coverlet to steady herself as Rita fucked her hard and fast. 

_No need for boys?_ Rita’s voice murmured sweetly inside Yen’s head. Yen reached behind her and grasped Rita’s supple ass as it pounded her.

 _No, no need_.

They fucked each other in just about every position they could imagine and then all over again until they collapsed in a breathless pile of soft curves. The first streaks of light were shining through the window. Margarita groaned and buried her face in Yennefer’s breasts. “Let’s not, let’s go to sleep and do this all over again and forget about the world.”

Yennefer sighed. Her muting spell had long ago been lifted, Witchers’ heightened hearing be damned. “Rather impractical, darling. I’ve a little pupil who needs me. And you have…”

“Ugh, do not _even_ remind me. What horrifying nonsense is it that I ended up as a rectoress at Aretuza? Why don’t I take you and the girl back with me and be done with it?”

“Geralt. He’s protective of her, doesn’t want her to be around... certain people.” Yen bit her lip. She couldn’t say much, not even to someone as beloved as Rita. “These are dangerous times, Rita.”

“Yes, yes, the war,” Rita muttered. “How did we get on this tiresome topic? I don’t want to think about this here, in your arms.”

“Then let’s not. Let’s sleep, just for a little while,” Yennefer soothed her. Rita went quiet, breathing evenly. Yennefer thought she had drifted off to sleep, when her voice sounded softly.

“Has he tried to win you back?”

There was only one person Rita could be talking about. Yen cringed and squeezed the sorceress in her arms. “He smells like Eskel every morning. He doesn’t come to me for comfort.”

“Do you want him to?”

“... I don’t know.”

Rita laughed tiredly. “Oh, Yenna. You know. You’re scared of someone loving you like he does.”

“I’m not scared of anything, darling.”

“Then give him an answer. Don’t be cruel and string him along.” Rita held up her head, looking Yennefer in her eyes. “You know what I think?”

“You’ll tell me anyway. Out with it.”

“Quite so,” Rita smiled fondly, resting her chin back down on Yennefer’s breast. “I think you’ll find yourself at ease if you take a role you’re comfortable with. You don’t want to be his wife, surely?”

“No, I can’t. I told him that.”

“That’s it. Yenna, if someone isn’t willing to dominate you completely, you can’t abide submitting to them. He loves you like a lost puppy and he’ll do anything you say to keep your love… and you find that weak.”

The wheels in Yennefer’s mind were trying to squeak to a rolling start, but she was too tired to connect the pieces. “We’ve been fucking for hours, speak plainly. I can’t…”

Rita giggled against her breast and kissed her there. “He wants you to claim his heart as yours. To be possessed by you, dominated. To think that you don’t want him must be agonizing. That’s why he’s been warming Eskel’s bed.” She paused and looked up at Yennefer, seeing the sorceress lost in thought. “Everyone wants to love and be loved, Yenna. It’s no strange thing, surely not even to you.”

“No,” Yennefer whispered, an ache in her heart reminding her of just how right Rita was. “Not even me.”

  
  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay!! I went through some very intense life changes at the end of May and haven’t written since then. I’m finally getting back on my feet and I’m so happy to put out more content. 
> 
> Thank you, those coming back and anyone reading for the first time. Enjoy!

“Uuuuugh!” Lambert wrinkled his nose in disgust. He slapped Eskel’s shoulder and pointed at the figures entering the courtyard where the Witchers and Ciri were training. “Y’know what smells worse than one sorceress?”

Eskel sighed. “Let me guess… two sorceresses.”

“Nope, a pile of horse shite. Hah! Got you there, brother! Good one,” Lambert told himself, tossing his dagger in the air above him and catching it with his eyes closed, left handed, _just_ to show off for the ladies. He winked at Yennefer, who rolled her eyes in response and crossed the courtyard to speak to Vesemir. Margarita trailed behind her, watching the Witchers curiously. She wiggled her fingers at Eskel in greeting and Eskel might have turned a shade more red. Lambert was about to open his mouth and make fun of Eskel when Geralt intervened, pulling Lambert away to take his turn practicing with Ciri. Eskel made eye contact with Geralt, a silent _thank you_ , as he returned to sparring with Coën. 

Across the courtyard, Vesemir was waiting for the ladies to approach him with his arms crossed over his chest and a stern look on his face. Yennefer did her best to look contrite. “Vesemir, my apologies,” Yennefer began as she slipped her arm around the old Witcher’s elbow. She gestured to Rita, who held out her hand to Vesemir. “I would be a very rude guest to invite someone without your permission, but truth be told this young lady invited herself.”

“Hmm,” Vesemir grumbled, taking Rita’s hand in his and raising it to his lips. “I felt the portal last night, and I had a mind to check on what was going on in that tower. My sense of hearing persuaded me to leave you be.” There was a crinkle of mirth around those old, wise eyes. Rita giggled. 

“Will you forgive me, Master Witcher?” Rita asked demurely, batting her eyelashes at Vesemir shamelessly. Vesemir grunted and leaned in, speaking softly.

“I’ll forgive you this once, but next time you come greet me first before going to her. I can’t have these boys thinking Yennefer gets special treatment. I run this keep, not her.”

“Quite right,” Rita agreed. She smiled deviously. “I’ll be happy to come... _greet_ you first.” 

Vesemir sputtered and coughed, waving away the enchantress in embarrassment. Rita and Yennefer laughed together and left him be. They crossed the courtyard again, hand in hand, approaching Geralt and Lambert.

“Our turn, little one,” Yennefer called to Ciri. “I’ve let you train longer than usual today.”

Lambert scoffed, slinging an arm around Ciri’s slim shoulders. “Yeah because you slept in after spending all night fu-“ 

“Lambert!” Geralt growled. 

The youngest Witcher growled back at Geralt. “What? Gonna defend the woman you love while she’s sleeping with someone else? Didn’t know the White Wolf was pussy whipped.” He spat at Geralt’s boots, and that was it. Geralt grabbed Lambert’s gambeson collar and pushed him with a snarl towards the center of the courtyard. 

“Fuck off, Geralt,” Lambert snapped, twirling his dagger between skilled fingers. “Really gonna do this in front of the kid?”

Geralt tossed aside the training sword he’d been using to practice with Ciri. He brandished his fists. “She should see that a woman’s honor is worth defending, not mocking.”

“Oh for _gods sake_ , Ger-” Lambert was cut off as the older Witcher took a swing at his head. Lambert ducked under his arm and grabbed Geralt’s waist with his free hand. Geralt anticipated the move and shifted his weight backwards, knocking Lambert off balance and onto the ground. Geralt went with him, taking the momentary surprise to slip his arm around Lambert’s neck in a chokehold. Lambert gasped, feet flailing on the gravel to find purchase enough to counter Geralt’s hold. 

Behind them, Yennefer and Rita were watching with Ciri beside them, her hands clasped over her heart. The girl looked up at Yen with wide, amazed eyes. “They’re fighting over _you_! How romantic.”

Yennefer had to laugh at that. “It’s not romantic. It’s stupid, and a waste of effort. I don’t need my honor defended.” She had said it loudly enough for Geralt to hear, and the words stung in the Witcher’s ears. His grip on Lambert’s neck softened just enough for the younger Witcher to squirm in his grip and twist his torso around so that he could push away from Geralt. Geralt tried to grab him again, and in the scuffle of trying to readjust his grip on his weapon, Lambert slipped. The dagger went flying, slicing Geralt’s forearm in its pathway towards the ground. Lambert went limp, horrified, and Geralt released him. 

The White Wolf stood up slowly, gazing at the blood flowing from his arm. He growled and tested the edges of the wound with his other hand. It was superficial, and would heal in less than a day, but the damage was done to both his body and his pride. Lambert saw, and knew how badly he had fucked up. He never had any intention of harming his older brother, just wanted to rough around and show off for the ladies. 

“Fuck! I’m sorry, I-“ 

“Forget it,” Geralt gritted out. He covered the cut with his hand and walked out of the courtyard with his eyes cast down, not wanting to see the look of disapproval he was _sure_ was written on both Eskel and Yen’s faces. 

“Go after him,” Rita whispered urgently to Yen. “Do it, before Eskel does.”

Yen bit her bottom lip. She really, _really_ didn’t want to cause any more of a scene than was already displayed. The worst part was the damn child watching her in envy. Ha! Imagine that - envy, of her ridiculous life, and these ridiculous men and their inability to simply _talk_ about their feelings. Gods, what an embarrassment.

“Fuck,” Yennefer muttered and followed after Geralt’s path. She was no Witcher, but her sense of smell was just as enhanced and she could easily track him. The metallic smell of blood was mixed with his usual scent, along with the bitter smell of sadness and pain. She sighed as she climbed the stairs towards his room. As much as she was frustrated with Geralt and still hurt from his last wish, she didn’t feel that he deserved to be wounded for her sake. Rita’s encouragement rang in her ears - _possess him, dominate him… to think you don’t love him must be agony..._

Geralt’s door was left open a crack, and Yen peeked in curiously. He was washing his wound over a basin on a table, cleaning it meticulously. More thoroughly than was needed for a small cut by a clean-ish blade and a Witcher’s healing powers. His back was partially turned to her, and he didn’t need to spare a glance to know she was there. 

“Can I…?” Yen murmured, stepping inside when he didn’t protest. She felt like she floated to his side, lost in her thoughts as she drew Chaos into her hands. Geralt felt a soft thrum in his medallion and inhaled sharply at the sensation of her aura pouring over him, starting as a tickle in his scalp and washing over his shoulders. The tension and pain melted away from him, leaving him feeling heavy and blissful. Yen watched him, holding him in the safe space of her energy, smiling when he breathed out the tiniest moan of pleasure. His knees buckled and he sank to the floor, hands grasping the edge of the table he’d been leaning over. He tilted his head up to look at her, and his eyes rolled back and closed as she pushed another wave of her power over him. She projected a whisper into his mind, _Gentle wolf, you mustn’t hurt yourself defending me. Feel how strong I am?_

“Yen,” Geralt whimpered her name, limbs too heavy to move, mind mercifully empty, nothing but throbbing bliss in his veins. He tried again to speak, but found nothing worthy of saying to the sorceress. No praise good enough for her, no plea he deserved to utter. 

“Good wolf,” Yennefer purred. She knelt gracefully behind him, sliding her hands over his shoulders. He trembled under her touch. “Will you remember this next time you try to fight my battles for me?” She trailed her fingers around his waist, down his belly, ghosting over his painfully hard cock before settling firmly on his upper thighs. She pressed another wave of energy over him, and his back arched, hips jerking in a silent plea for friction.

“ _Yen_ … please…” Geralt was breathing heavily now, gritting his teeth as he tried to move. The pleasure was quickly turning into agony of the sweetest kind, as if he was on the precipice of an orgasm but couldn’t get himself over the edge. He felt Yennefer smile against his shoulder and he wanted to curse at her. But instead more moans betrayed his enjoyment of her sweet cruelty. He ached, _suffered_ with wanting to make her feel like this… to feel even an ounce of the bliss in which he was drowning. He curled inwards, pressing his back against Yennefer’s body, shamelessly seeking more of her physical touch. Yennefer hummed, resting her weight against him, nuzzling into his shoulder.

 _Give me time to know my heart._ Feeling Geralt helpless, aching for her, taking the agony of the full force of her passion… she knew. Godsdammit, she _knew_ her heart. Her hands flew up and wrapped tightly around his chest, pulling him back as she pressed forward. Protective, in control. Geralt moaned and let his head fall back onto her shoulder, his eyes fluttering open just briefly. Her lips found his ear, kissing at his lobe before murmuring her confession. 

“Geralt, if you want me, it will be intense. I’ll take all of you. I’ll hurt you. Do you understand? I cannot love so deeply without being cruel. I cannot. You feel this inside you now, all of me, the softness and the pain?” 

Geralt whimpered a “yes” towards the heavens.

“And you want me, still?” Yennefer asked, her voice betraying a hint of vulnerability that she didn’t want Geralt to hear. But he heard, and shuddered in her arms.

“ _Yes_ , Yen, _yes_ , a thousand times-“ His voice cut off with a strangled sob as she slipped a hand inside his trousers and grasped his cock as she coursed a final wave of her energy over him. He came, choking gasps of air, his hips chasing her touch. Craving more, impossibly soon. 

She promised him pain. She whispered of love. It was too much and not enough, all at once, and it _wrecked_ him. His gasps turned into sobs, tears flooding his eyes as the pleasure and intensity of Yennefer’s energy slowly faded from his limbs. He finally found the strength to reach behind him and clasped his hands around Yennefer’s back, holding her tightly against him. Needing her not to leave or stop touching him, not now. _Please, not ever_.

Yennefer’s other hand was on his face, stroking away his tears. She murmured sweet nonsense, soothing him. An easy clean-up spell removed the mess of Geralt’s cum from her hand and his trousers. She carefully shifted them so that Geralt’s back rested against the wall near them, and she climbed between his legs and laid her ear over his heart. His arms bracketed her petite frame, holding tight as he leaned forward and rested his head against hers. He breathed her scent deeply and his tears slowed to a stop.

“You mean it, Yen? Love me?” The witcher whispered, needing to hear it. Yen’s hands curled up in his shirt, kneading the fabric and the muscles underneath.

She sighed, bracing herself, as if the admission was going to hurt her.

“Yes, Geralt, _yes_.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will not rest until every bisexual idiot in this fic is properly paired up and happy. 
> 
> Don’t you worry! So much more Geralt/Yen to come.

Yennefer willed her heart rate to slow down and mimic the steady thrum of Geralt’s under her ear. Her confession hung in the air, the terrifying reality of what she’d admitted. Her chest constricted, breathing was suddenly a chore. Geralt sensed her discomfort and tilted her back away from his chest, just enough to meet her gaze. For the first time since knowing the sorceress he saw a glimpse of fear in her eyes.

He rested his forehead against hers, nuzzling gently at her nose. Geralt licked at her lower lip, tasting her. He discerned the vague hint of Rita’s scent lingering from earlier, and that too gave Yen reason to tense. Geralt huffed out a short laugh.

“Don’t, Yen… What did I say days ago?”

Yennefer stiffened, shaking her head and looking away. “You can’t mean you’ll share me, Geralt. Nobody-“

“-should cage you,” Geralt cut her off, grasping her chin in his hand and tilting her head up. “All I ask is that you come back. I have your love, Yen, and you have mine. That is the beginning and the end of everything.” He released her chin and stroked calloused fingers against her soft skin, tracing the arch of her cheekbones and soothing away the tension in her brow. She shivered under the gentle touches, wanting them to never stop, wanting to melt for him.

Her heart wrenched in fear again, cutting through the sweet moment. “What if I hurt you?” Yennefer whispered. Her hands gripped tightly at Geralt’s shirt. She wanted to shake him, make sure he understood what he was asking for. But his lips replaced his fingers, soothing kisses over her forehead, eyelids, cheeks, the tip of her nose, and finally her lips. 

She moaned into the kiss, opening her mouth and letting the Witcher take what he needed from her. He growled softly as he pulled back, sucking on her bottom lip with just a hint of teeth.

“I said a thousand times, yes, to your pain. So _hurt me_ ,” Geralt gritted. Yennefer was breathing heavily, aroused by the kiss and Geralt’s submission. She reached between her legs, rubbing herself as she kept eye contact with Geralt. Geralt moaned her name sweetly, and she reached up her hand towards his chin. He opened immediately, willingly, letting her sink three digits into the wet heat of his mouth and taste her and Rita’s union from that morning. She felt the vibrations on his tongue as he moaned again, lapping at her fingers. His eyes rolled back and fluttered closed. 

“More,” he whimpered when Yen finally withdrew her digits. Yennefer grinned wickedly and stood up, straddling his thighs between her feet before lifting a knee onto his shoulder and hiking up her skirts. His hands found her ass and pulled her forward eagerly to his awaiting mouth. Yennefer shrieked at the enthusiasm with which Geralt ate her out, sucking and licking her as if it was his duty to find every trace of her earlier lover and lap her clean. She ground her hips against him, moaning with abandon when Geralt gripped her ass and held her steady as she climbed towards her orgasm.

“Mmmf, oh- Geralt! GER-“ Yennefer’s mouth dropped open, her words cut off as her climax hit her. She slid her fingers through Geralt’s hair, tugging him closer as she rode his mouth through her completion. When the tremors started to fade and she could breathe again she released him, her eyes slowly fluttering open. She found herself, rather stunned, gazing through the window of Geralt’s room which overlooked the courtyard. She realized in horror that the other Witchers still training below had all turned to look at her when she screamed Geralt’s name. She flushed beet red and dropped down onto Geralt’s lap, laughing at the absurdity of it all - their faces, Geralt being too perfect for his own good, her confession of love…

Geralt wiped his face with his sleeve and smirked at her. “What, did everyone hear you?” He leaned forward and kissed Yennefer. “Perhaps that’s what I wanted.”

“Ass!” Yennefer smacked his shoulder playfully and stood up, finding her feet on wobbly knees. She made towards the door to leave, half-joking about being upset with him. Her hand had barely lifted towards the doorknob when a firm body pounced on her from behind, pinning her against the iron and wood. Geralt’s breath was hot on her neck as he growled at her. 

“Not done, Yen. More,” he huffed, burying his face in her shoulder and loosening his grip so that he could pull her away from the door and into his arms. It was Yen’s turn to snarl, charging electricity in her palms and zapping Geralt’s hands just enough for him to startle and let her go. She spun around and flew those same hands to Geralt’s neck, gripping just enough to press into his pulse. Geralt tried to move away but found himself frozen in space, his medallion humming on his chest. Yennefer grinned at his frustration.

“ _Do not_ whine for me, Geralt. I love you, I’ll be sweet when you need me, but whining….” She squeezed her hands around his neck and shuddered in pleasure at the ragged little gasp he made. “Oh, _fuck,_ Geralt.” She released her hands, withdrew her spell, watched him take a deep breath as he rubbed at his neck.

Their eyes met, and Yen’s stomach fluttered at the look in his, wanton and weak with love. “Be cruel to me Yen, _please_ ,” he begged, amber eyes seeking violet as he waited, patient and submissive. He tilted his head up to expose his neck and let his eyes drift closed. 

“Fuck,” Yen breathed, and summoned Chaos to her hands.

  
She was going to wreck him.

  
  
  
  


———

  
  
  
  


“Enough, it’s fine,” Eskel soothed as Lambert rolled his thumbs into the small of his back, massaging sweetly what he couldn’t reach for himself. The cool, smooth stone of the hot springs was a refreshing contrast to the steam above him and Lambert’s warm touch. He had pulled a muscle training that morning, and while he could’ve just slept it off, Lambert’s offer was just a little too tempting… _Displace your guilt on me more often_ , the older Witcher thought to himself idly as he melted onto the stone. 

“Mm,” the younger wolf hummed. The oil spread beneath his fingers easily, caressing his brother’s tense muscles. “‘S not enough if you still hurt.” He kneaded at a stubborn knot and grinned when Eskel groaned in relief. 

“I could get used to you not being an asshole all the time,” Eskel mumbled, drunk on relaxation. Lambert’s hands stilled over his hip bones, laying even pressure over the knot he’d just unwound, letting Eskel take a few deep breaths and come back to reality. When Lambert was satisfied, he leaned away and stood up from where he had straddled Eskel’s thighs…. not before landing a resounding, stinging slap to Eskel’s bare ass.

Eskel yelped, then growled as he scrambled up and tackled Lambert into the hot springs. They crashed together into the shoulder-deep water, wrestling playfully, nipping at each other. Lambert was too stubborn to admit he enjoyed the attention, the touches, the stolen moments of rutting away frustrations on each other. He didn’t want Eskel like Geralt did, all romantic and mushy and ugh. A cock was a cock, an ass was an ass… Eskel just happened to have the finest in the kingdom. And fuck, he’d be an idiot if he’d pass up the opportunity to have them. 

“I could get used to being _in_ your asshole all the time,” Lambert quipped back with a smirk, grabbing an ample handful of said ass and pulling apart Eskel’s cheeks. He crowded his brother against the wall of the hot spring, guiding him towards the shallow end where there was a natural shelf in the rock just above waist height. Eskel grunted when he felt the shelf at his back. They’d done this enough, he knew what to do. He hoisted himself up on the shelf and leaned back, spreading his legs and reaching down to lift his cock and balls out of the way. Lambert growled hungrily at the sight of him and reached for the massage oil he’d left on the edge of the pool, pouring a sloppy amount into his hand. He sunk one finger and then two into Eskel without ceremony, twisting and scissoring them apart, dipping his mouth down to plunge his tongue between his spread fingers. 

“ _Mmf-”_ Eskel choked out, clenching down around the mixed soft and rough sensations. He felt Lambert smirk against his hole, _the smug fucker._ Eskel dropped a hand to Lambert’s short hair and tugged impatiently. 

“No teasing, pup, climb on or fuck off,” Eskel growled. Lambert hummed, slurping one last obscenely wet swipe across Eskel’s hole before pulling back. He poured more oil over his fingers and into Eskel. He was an asshole, yes, (he’d be the first to admit it) but he wasn’t into pain. _Mmm_ \- his brain went stupid for a moment and he couldn’t help but dig his teeth into Eskel’s juicy thigh to suck a love bite into him - _not a_ **_lot_ ** _of pain, that is._ He was rewarded with a light smack to the back of his head and he laughed as he released Eskel. He stood back, dropping his oiled hand to his cock and stroking himself. Eskel scooted into the thigh-high water and turned around, bracing his forearms against the shelf. 

“Ready?” Lambert asked _as he pushed his cock inside_ Eskel, and Eskel cried out a strangled sob of pleasure and burning surprise. 

“You fucking prick-“ Eskel gritted, gripping for purchase against the rocks. Lambert moaned and curled himself against Eskel’s back, sunk to the hilt inside him. He ground his hips lazily, allowing himself just one tender moment cuddled up to the warmth and strength of his older brother. A soft grunt of affection and a pat on his ass brought him back to reality, and he took a deep breath, pulled out… and went to work.

Eskel sank down onto the rock, cradling his head in his arms to prevent scratching his already ugly face as Lambert fucked him. _No, not ugly_ , Geralt and Lambert had soothed him one night. _Handsome wolf, brave wolf. Ours._

He tried to remember their words when the shame peaked, when he wanted to hide. No need to hide here, in Kaer Morhen, his safe place. _Rest and relax_ ( _and spread ‘em,_ he added in Lambert’s voice). He chuckled softly, and Lambert grunted and slowed. 

“Something funny, Esk? Not pounding you hard enough?” He snapped forward at _just_ the right angle and Eskel gasped as he saw stars sparkle across his eyes. 

“Mm, no… no, just- aah!” Eskel propped himself up, panting, trying to catch his breath as Lambert thrust into him without rhythm, keeping him guessing. Lambert paused, wrapped his arms around Eskel’s waist. He swayed from foot to foot, wiggling his hips against Eskel’s teasingly.

“Go on, tell me, handsome,” Lambert whispered in his ear, teeth grazing against his lobe before licking. He pumped slowly, purposefully, hitting that spot that drove Eskel mad. 

“Ha….happy,” Eskel managed, keening when Lambert’s hand found his cock and started stroking. Lambert _purred,_ licking a wet stripe up Eskel’s neck and pushing faster.

“Happy, huh? Good, pretty boy, you make me happy too,” Lambert drawled, hips moving harder and deeper as he stroked Eskel towards his climax. He felt Eskel tremble, felt him clench around his cock, the only warning before Eskel started cumming. Lambert came just after him, shouting nonsense in triumph of the moment. As _if_ he could do anything but feel triumphant buried in Eskel’s perfect ass. 

They stood tied together, catching their breath, enjoying the intimacy of their union. Even if Lambert didn’t want to admit it, he felt safest in these moments, wanted and without need to hide. He nuzzled against Eskel’s shoulder, stealing one more sweet moment of appreciation and affection before easing himself out of Eskel. The older Witcher sighed as he slumped down into the hot spring, feeling truly boneless now between the massage and being thoroughly fucked. Lambert relaxed next to him, sprawling his arms out over the ledge of the pool. Eskel could easily cuddle up to him if he wanted to. The invitation was there, but Lambert would never insist.

“Mmm… y’ think the sorceress is taking Geralt’s ass tonight?” Lambert wondered out loud, _pretending_ not to notice the slight increase in Eskel’s heart rate. He avoided Eskel’s eyes, closing his and leaning his head back against the ledge. Eskel splashed water on his own face, scrubbing gently.

“Why would you say something like that, now?” Eskel complained softly. He shifted and felt Lambert’s spend leak from him a little. A soft sigh fell from his lips and he relaxed against the edge of the pool, moving just slightly closer to let Lambert’s arm wrap around him. Lambert held fast, his hand clasping Eskel’s shoulder protectively. As protective as he could be, really, over someone older, wiser, and generally more skilled than him.

“Just making sure I’m still a jerk,” Lambert murmured. “Haven’t gone all mushy and shit.” He said, as his thumb stroked tenderly over a scar on Eskel’s shoulder like it was the most normal thing in the world. “You know…. if he’s not… uh, I mean, I’m here for you if you… need someone.”

Eskel had turned his head to watch Lambert struggle through that admission, and the older Witcher suddenly splashed more water on his face to have an excuse to hide his bemused grin. Lambert brushed his fingers across Eskel’s brow, pushing aside wet strands of hair in search of his eyes. 

They met their gazes for a long moment, more vulnerable and timid than either would like to admit. Eskel broke first, leaning closer into Lambert’s embrace and gracing his lips with a kiss. Lambert hummed and breathed deeply when they parted, memorizing the scent of _them_ , a scent he’d like to smell much more often. 

“I’d like that too,” Eskel murmured and settled back into his own space next to Lambert. Lambert cleared his throat and leaned back into his nonchalant posture, sprawled out and enjoying the heat and steam. Under the water their knees rested against each other, and the simple touch and what it promised was quite enough to keep them fighting off little grins that rose to their lips, embarrassingly unbidden.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Porn with mostly no plot and domestic bliss in this chapter! Yay!
> 
> Thank you for all your lovely comments and support.

The door to Geralt’s bedroom was sealed with magic, and a silencing charm protected the rest of the keep from hearing them. Yen could’ve whisked them away with a portal, but then she would have to hear about Geralt’s nausea and headaches for an entire week and _oh_ it just wasn’t worth it when she could cast a few simple spells and have him tucked away safely, all to herself.

And here he was. Here _they_ were. Geralt, naked, hands bound, sprawled out on his back on the furs covering his bed looking like a godsdamned work of art. Muscles twitching with anticipation, glistening with sweat. Eyes shut in relaxation, wet lips parted and waiting. Splashes of cum pooled in his navel and the creases of his abdomen. Yennefer shivered as she took in the sight of him, so beautiful. He had come for her three times already, twice inside her and once on himself. And Yen came… well, honestly, she had given up counting. Was there any point resisting pleasure when there was a Witcher beneath her? He was just so, _so-_

“Beautiful,” she murmured, leaning over him and stroking her hands up his body, painting little streaks of cum over his chest. She dug her nails into his skin just below his collarbones, and he didn’t react to the pain. He was too far gone, too deep into his subspace. She knew she had to be careful not to push or hurt him now. It made every little hitch of his breath that much sweeter, knowing he gave himself up to her mercy. Her power. 

His cock was hard, _again_ or _still_ \- the difference was unimportant to Yen. She swung a leg over his hips and slid easily, gently onto him. Eyes still closed, Geralt whimpered and squeezed the rope binding his hands together. Yen didn’t rock against him, didn’t ride him. Instead she laid down on his chest, letting him feel the weight of her on top of him, around him. Letting him feel just shy of being overwhelmed. Letting him _tremble_ for her.

“Mine, mine,” Yennefer purred, nuzzling into his chest hair. Geralt arched his back to press against her, flexed his thighs to push even deeper. 

“ _Yen_ ,” his voice shook, cracked. “Yours.” He cried out as Yen lifted her hips and sank down onto him, grinding against him when she bottomed out. Some nonsense fell from his lips, garbled and cut off with a gasp. Yen smiled, repeated her motion, rubbing her cheek against his chest again. 

“What was that, my Wolf?”

Geralt opened his mouth to answer and shut it just as quickly, trying to suppress another loud cry. Yen paused her movement and his lips parted in response, panting like a bitch in heat as he arched against her to feel more friction. Yennefer hummed and squeezed her inner muscles around him, reveling in the way he threw his head back and growled. 

“Oh, my sweet wolf, _tell me._ Come on, tell me,” she encouraged, freeing a hand to stroke the damp tendrils of white hair from his forehead. To dip her thumb into his mouth, let him suck greedily before pulling it away, pinching gently at his plump lower lip. “ _Tell me_ ,” she snarled, digging her nails into his chin as she shifted her weight and began grinding on him, pushing his cock deep against her walls already slick and painted with his seed. Geralt keened, hands straining against his bindings as he fell apart.

“Yours, _yours_ Yen. L- love you, love, _love you,_ **_please_**.”

The words fell from his lips like they were the only truth he knew, like he was confessing on his way to the gallows. Yen moaned, deep and feral, and released Geralt’s hands with a drunkenly-formed spell. His hands flew to her hips, guiding her as he pumped up and met her thrust for thrust. They rocked together, trying to watch each other through bliss-hazed eyes as their climaxes drew close. 

“Geralt, _oh my wolf_ , mine… oh!” Yen cried out, clinging to Geralt’s shoulders as he flipped them over and fucked into Yennefer mercilessly. He pressed his forehead against hers, her lips swallowing his cries as he brought them to the edge. A deep, guttural snarl and an equally sharp thrust marked Geralt’s end, pumping his cum into Yen even as she squirmed and rocked on his cock beneath him. She came just moments later, her body clutching onto Geralt’s cock still heavy and throbbing inside her.

She sighed and moaned happily, burying her fingers in his hair as he sank onto her. He distributed his weight carefully so he wouldn’t crush her, and Yen rather liked the feeling of him heavy in her arms, melting against her body. Satisfied, safe. 

“Can’t,” Geralt finally whimpered as his cock softened and he pulled out of her, wincing at the oversensitivity. Yennefer guided him gently onto his side, making sure to tuck a pillow under his head. The room was warm enough that they didn’t need blankets, but she pulled one closer to him just in case he wanted it later. The Witcher sighed in contentment, blinking at her sleepily before closing his eyes. A smile played on his lips, and Yennefer leaned in to kiss it, to acknowledge it.

“Night, love,” she murmured. “More tomorrow.”

Geralt’s sleepy smile grew a bit wider as he drifted off. 

  
  
  


—————-

  
  
  


Geralt pretended not to notice Eskel and Lambert watching his gait carefully as he walked into the Great Hall the next morning. Nor did he notice the exchange of coin between them and the scowl on Lambert’s face, the same one he bore whenever he blew his odds betting on a round of Gwent. 

Geralt also did not take heed of the unimpressed look on Vesemir’s face, nor the way Ciri blushed red and couldn’t look at him. He didn’t hear the whispering between Coën and Margarita. He didn’t mind that his toast was burnt on one end, or that his eggs were overcooked, or that Lambert stole the last two slices of bacon and passed the better piece to Eskel.

None of this was of any consequence, because Yennefer loved him.

She loved him. 

And he loved her. 

Everything else could mind its own damned business today, because Geralt was in love. Not _only_ was he in love, but that love was sitting next to him now. That love had woken up in his arms smelling like him, and let him have her twice more before getting up for breakfast. That love had choked him so sweetly the night before until he saw constellations on his bedroom ceiling and felt like he was floating in a cloud of bliss. That love had gentled him when he shook and cared for him when he winced in pain. That love had pushed him to the edge and carried him back safely. 

That love was his as much as he was hers. 

And it made him dizzy with happiness. 

He didn’t even notice that everyone was looking at him, waiting for a response. He froze, his steaming cup of tea held halfway to his mouth. “What?”

Vesemir sighed heavily. “I said, your turn to check the traps today and cook dinner. You’re excused from training.”

“Because you’re useless,” Lambert added with a wink. Geralt growled at the younger Witcher and Yennefer’s hand on his thigh below the table prevented him from saying anything in return. Instead, he nodded to Vesemir and downed his tea. 

_Later, love. I’ll help with dinner,_ Yennefer’s voice projected in his head. He squeezed her hand and stood up, carrying his plate and cup to the kitchen. He wanted to turn back, to grab Yen and take her back to his room and stay there all day. But Vesemir would be cross with him, and he’d never hear the end of it. So he dressed for the cold and collected his hunting gear, stopping only to breathe deeply the scent of lilac and gooseberries clinging to every corner of his room. 

Well, _there_ was his motivation to round up the hunting traps as quickly as possible. 

He set out into the wilderness, determined to be back in Yen’s arms long before dinner time. 

  
  
  


—————

  
  


“ _So…._?” Rita pressed, rubbing her fingers together excitedly. She smirked at Yen, who was trying to teach runes to Ciri. The girl was scowling more than usual today, clearly unhappy that Yen had stolen Geralt’s affections. Yen looked up at Rita and shook her head. 

“Not now,” she murmured. Rita rolled her eyes and sighed in exasperation. 

“Oh come on, at least project it for me if you don’t want to say it in front of the little one!” Rita pressed her, pouting. Yen huffed in amusement at her friend, then concentrated her energy and sent Rita a quick glimpse of Geralt bound and laid out beneath her, of her hands around his neck as he orgasmed, of them curled up together kissing sweetly. Rita squealed and clapped her hands. “Yen! Oh, the two of you!”

Yen scoffed, “Enough now, you’ll traumatize the child.”

“I’m already traumatized,” Ciri corrected, thinking of dinner last night without Geralt and Yen, and overhearing Eskel and Lambert speculating about all the things the couple was up to in Geralt’s room. 

“Now, now,” Rita chided, swooping in to correct Ciri’s hand position on her parchment. “It’s quite lovely and natural for two people to care for each other. All animals mate, including humans! And… and mutants, like Witchers.”

Ciri made a gagging noise and attacked her runes with renewed vigor. Rita straightened up and stroked her fingers through Yen’s soft hair affectionately.

“Well,” Rita murmured, “I suppose my work here is done?” 

Yen smiled and reached up, interlacing their fingers. “Stay til dinner, won’t you?” She tilted her head up, resting against Rita’s belly. 

Rita giggled down at her, fingers wandering to stroke over her cheeks and neck. “Ah, I might even stay until dessert.”

With a growl Ciri threw down her quill pen and stormed away, yelling, “You two are just as bad! VESEMIR!”

  
  
  


————-

  
  
  


The traps didn’t have much to offer this time of year, and Geralt had only a handful of rabbits to show for all his efforts. He caught the scent of deer on his way back up the mountain and drew his bow, waiting for the right moment and prey to strike. A young buck, still plump from the bounty of late autumn, crossed his path at just the right angle and -

Ah, venison stew for dinner. And roasted rabbit for the girls.

Easy enough. 

He was sweating and stinking by the time he had gutted and skinned the carcass and carried it over his shoulders to the Keep. Coën spotted him first and helped usher him into the kitchen’s storeroom and down the steps to the cold cellar where the meat would keep fresh until cooked. Finally unladen from his burdens, he wiped his face with a bloody sleeve - _helpful,_ Geralt sighed at himself. He needed a bath before he did anything else. He didn’t mind being dirty, but he was sure he looked and smelled appalling.

He stripped as he wandered through the halls to the hot springs. His limbs were sore from all the activity of the night before and the hunt this morning, and he looked forward to soaking just as much as getting clean again. The rest of his clothes hit the ground as soon as he entered the steamy chamber. He grabbed a bucket and filled it with water to rinse off the worst of the blood before getting into the spring, repeating the motion twice and causing even more steam to fill the room as the hot water hit the cool stone floor.

“Missed a spot.” 

Geralt almost jumped out of his skin at the sound of the voice, then eased in realization that it was Yen. The sorceress stepped out of the steam, stark naked, smiling at him. “Had a feeling you’d come here after your hunt.”

“Yen,” Geralt breathed happily, reaching for her. She took one step backwards and clucked her tongue, pointing at the bucket. 

“One more, love, then we’ll get in and wash.” 

Geralt hmm’d and scooped water into the bucket and picked up a washcloth, dipping it in the clean water and offering it to Yen. She took it and wiped his face, cleaning off the bits of dried blood and dirt caked onto his forehead and cheek. She nodded her approval, and he tipped the bucket over his head once more, letting Yen scrub his neck and hands as well. 

Finally, Yen dropped the cloth and took his hand, leading him towards the spring. She eased herself in and he followed eagerly, wrapping his arms around her as soon as he was submerged. “ _Yen,”_ he moaned as she settled on his lap facing him, all softness and curves and heat compared to his body, still defrosting and stiff from his hunt. Yen picked up a bar of goat's milk soap and a soft sea sponge and worked them over Geralt’s shoulders, back, arms. The scent of lemon peels and dried rosemary filled the room, replacing any remaining odor from Geralt’s hunt. She lathered her hands with the soap, set it down, and stroked her fingers through Geralt’s hair, massaging and scratching and pulling an endless string of moans from him. 

His cock was filling out against her - how could he not enjoy this? He pressed up a little, only meaning to tease Yen’s pussy, and groaned when the sorceress adjusted her hips and sank down onto him. She didn’t move any more than that, simply sat and let him fill her as she washed his hair. He moaned sweetly and wrapped his arms around her waist, caressing her hips and ass fondly as he melted into her touch. Rubbing his shoulders now, Yen leaned forward and kissed him. Slowly, thoroughly. No rush at all, nothing else to do and nowhere else in the spheres she would rather be. His cock twitched inside her and she rolled her hips in response.

“Need to rinse your- mmm,” Yen tried to break away long enough to speak but Geralt chased her mouth, capturing her lips again. He wrapped his arms securely under her hips and stood up in the water, still connected to her intimately. Yen clung to his shoulders, ankles hooked around his waist. Any other partner and she’d bother to open her eyes or break the kiss to see what he had planned, but Geralt had a Witcher’s strength and extra senses. No harm would come to her, not in his arms, not unless she asked for it nicely.

Geralt walked to the deeper part of the pool and sank down to shoulder height. Finally breaking the kiss he tilted himself backwards, cradling Yen safely against his chest as he arched his back enough to shake his hair through the water and rinse off the soap. Yen raised one hand and helped him, fingers slipping easily through his silky clean locks. She purred happily as he stood straight again, still holding her tight in his arms. Normally she liked to be in charge in her sexual encounters, but it felt nice to feel small and protected for a change. She cuddled into his embrace, leaning her head on his shoulder as he carried her back into the shallow end and sat down on one of the natural shelves. 

“My Witcher,” Yen murmured happily, rocking her hips. Geralt propped up his knees and leaned back against the wall so that he had leverage to push up into her. And just like the night before, the morning of, every day to come (Geralt hoped), they made love until they were breathless, trembling, and spent. And when they got out of the spring Yennefer bent over to pick up her robe, and Geralt took her again just like that.

Because he could. Because they loved each other. And because he would stay buried inside her for the rest of his life if he could. 

“Fuck,” Geralt panted as they sat together afterwards on the cool stone outside the pool. Overstimulated, not quite touching each other save for their legs and fingers intertwining loosely. “I have to…. make dinner…. already late.”

“Mmm, good thing I can conjure up a feast,” Yen replied. She brought Geralt’s hand to her lips. “I told you I’d help, hm?”

Geralt grinned. “You did.”

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Besides Yen/Ger what pairing do you want to see more of? From here on we will mostly focus on endgame but I’m happy to fulfill requests :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All porn, no plot.  
> There’s always next chapter for plot 😆
> 
> Pegging! Topping from the bottom! IDIOTS IN LOVE!!

Geralt learned easily that Yen could do…. _anything._

The word ‘fantasy’ hardly held weight with her. The powers she could conjure let her change the atmosphere, location, her appearance, scent… Chaos let her dominate him, bind him, take away his sight and hearing, slick and loosen his ass effortlessly… yes, even that. Truly anything. 

And it made him shake with excitement.

At the moment he was kneeling in front of her, all adoring eyes and fluttering heart at the sight of her sauntering towards him. She was wearing a black lace corset and matching panties, with a leather harness tightened over her hips and centered in it, a cock - _no_ , Geralt’s mind corrected him. Not just any cock, Yen’s cock. The one she had created just for him.

She had asked him one night as she milked his prostate what kind of cock he’d like her to put in him. If he could _choose_ any type of phallus - any girth, length, weight, firmness. And moaning weakly, spread beneath her, he had described for her his fantasy, the type of cock he thought she would wield if she naturally could. He had closed his eyes in bliss as he came under her gentle guidance, and opened his eyes only as he felt the tap of firm skin against his face. He had startled, eyes flying open, thinking that Eskel must have snuck in at Yen’s invitation and was tapping his cock against his face. But no, in front of him in Yen’s graceful hand laid the phallus he had described. Every detail true to his desire, down to the thick vein running up the underside of the shaft and the foreskin pulled halfway back to reveal a soft, slick rosy head. Geralt had salivated at the sight then, much like he was now. 

He couldn’t help but lick his lips, squirm on his heels, open his mouth and let his tongue hang forward in an obscene suggestion.

Yen took the hint.

She stopped before him, her hand guiding the cock to stroke along the stubble of his chin before pressing sweetly into the wet tip of Geralt’s tongue. She sighed a moan and wiggled her hips slightly. 

“It’s enchanted. I can feel... _mmm_ … feel the head like it’s my clit,” she panted slightly as she stroked her cock aimlessly against Geralt’s tongue and lips. She lifted her other hand and gently shut his mouth, urging him to close around her cock and suck. And when he did - _“Oh!”_

Yen’s knees trembled and she braced her hands against Geralt’s shoulders, gasping as he sucked her off with vigor. She knew then why Eskel had guarded the White Wolf as something precious, why Geralt had smelled like Eskel every morning while she’d been separated from him. As strong and able to dominate as Geralt was, he was equally ready and eager to submit. 

Her cock hit the back of his throat. He choked and tried to swallow her deeper, and her clit _sang._

“Uuuunng- fuck!” Yen gasped, her hips jerking as she struggled to hold back an orgasm. Geralt growled and grabbed her hips, holding her against him and swallowing around her cock reverently, wishing she could produce cum for him to drink. As if hearing his thoughts Yennefer moaned in sweet agony, grabbing the nape of his neck and tearing her cock away from him.

She was growling, snarling, _hungry_ for her Witcher. Geralt moaned and whined as he felt slick drip between his cheeks and thighs, an aching emptiness inside him where Yen’s magic had spread him open. He leaned back into Yen’s touch, melting into her, spreading his thighs so that he could arch his back suggestively.

“Mmm, want my cock inside you, slut?” Yennefer purred. She loosened her grip on his neck, stroking her fingers up through his white hair and letting him take pleasure from her touch. She sighed and shivered, bracing herself for the next act. “If you want me, present yourself. On the bed, my love.”

Geralt whimpered and stood up immediately, walking the few steps to the bed and crawling onto it on hands and knees. He lowered his chest to the mattress, settling down comfortably, lifting his hips in the air. He reached behind him and grasped his cheeks, spreading himself for Yen’s viewing pleasure. The sorceress moaned in appreciation, walking towards him to line herself up to his entrance. She was petite, but she was wearing heeled boots and the boost combined with Geralt’s position provided her _just_ the right height to press the tip of her cock against Geralt’s magic-readied ass and push slowly inside him.

The head of her cock breached his entrance and he keened, gasping as he pushed back to meet her. He moaned her name, just as hungry as she was, one hand releasing his ass to reach for her and grab her thigh to steady them. 

“Good boy, my strong Witcher,” Yennefer sighed as she sank deep. The feeling on her clit was indescribable- like being surrounded by the warmth and wetness of a mouth while being able to pleasure her partner. She trembled, grateful for Geralt’s big hand gripped tightly on her thigh. Deep, she was _so deep_ , and she could feel Geralt’s muscles squeezing around her cock as he adjusted to the girth inside him. It made her dizzy.

She didn’t realize that she had stopped moving until Geralt grunted impatiently beneath her and bucked his hips back against her. He used the wetness gifted him to slide back and forth, fucking himself on her cock. Yen squealed happily, finally gathering enough focus to meet his thrusts. They rutted like this for a few moments until Yen was breathless and shaking and Geralt was growling with the need to get off. He tugged Yen forward and she stumbled onto the bed behind him, settling down onto her knees. Geralt adjusted himself, spreading his legs wider, sinking his ass down onto Yen’s lap as the sorceress cursed in pleasure. Geralt gripped the sheets in his fists and rode her cock relentlessly, taking what he needed and grunting her name.

Yen was gone, far gone by the time Geralt stilled, stroking himself frantically as he came hard on his love’s cock. Yen slumped against his back, holding him tightly in her arms, too lost to do anything but moan and whimper and grind her twitching hips inside him as she climaxed. 

Moments passed, warm air puffed against Geralt’s back as he pulled what oxygen he could into his lungs. His Witcher instincts took over once his body had succumbed to pleasure - _not enough air; increase heart rate and respiration to compensate._

“Love you - love you,” Yen was moaning repeatedly as she squeezed her arms around Geralt’s chest. The Witcher hummed, relaxing into her embrace, basking in her affection even as her cock speared him open. He felt vulnerable and safe all at once, and the mixed feelings brought a bashful grin to his face.

“Yen… love you too,” he murmured as he laid his arms over hers. He found one of her hands and interlaced their fingers, sighing contentedly. When their heartbeats had slowed Yen eased herself out and guided Geralt to lay on his back. His eyes were closed and he was, as usual, already dozing off. She took a moment and admired the bliss on his face, the heaviness of his limbs as he sprawled over the furs and…. and…. 

Yen’s eyes widened and she listened more carefully. Something was off about Geralt’s breathing. A soft noise, like a gentle rumble, was rising from his chest and vibrating across his vocal cords with every exhale.

He was _purring_.

Yen’s mouth dropped, and she clapped a hand over it to hide her shock. She wasn’t displeased. Not at all. Quite the opposite. She had a feeling this would be something Geralt would be sensitive about and she didn’t want to bring any attention to it lest he become self-conscious.

But oh… how sweet he was like this, how much he must trust her to let his guard down. Yen shivered and felt her clit throb with longing. She unbuckled the strap-on and set it aside as quietly as she could, her corset and panties next along with her boots. Naked, she crawled next to her purring Witcher and pressed against him. 

“Hmm,” Geralt mumbled, the purring easing off as he came back to his surroundings. The scent of Yen’s arousal washed over him and turned that purr into a playful growl. Not opening his eyes, he pulled Yen on top of him and let her hips settle into just the right spot above his. Feeling her soaking wet pussy against his half-hard cock brought him to attention and he rolled his hips teasingly.

“Mmm, more,” Yen sighed greedily, meeting his thrust.

“Always more,” Geralt agreed. He wrapped his arms tightly around his sorceress, holding her against his heart. She wiggled her hips until the tip of his cock caught against her opening and she slid down onto him in one smooth movement. They both sighed and rocked together lazily, content to just be connected. Yen whimpered and nuzzled into Geralt’s chest.

“Geralt…. Geralt, this… this is..,” her words failed her and the Witcher rolled them over, pinning her underneath his weight. He lifted her legs onto his shoulders and held her hands over her head. He leaned down, folding her in half, and gazed deeply into her violet eyes. 

“This is?” he asked, rubbing his nose against hers. She lifted her chin and captured his lips, foreheads pressed together as Geralt pushed as deeply as he could inside her. A cry caught in her throat. Her hands flew to Geralt’s hips, pulling him flush against her to keep him deep inside. 

Yen thought, or _tried to think_ , about what she wanted to say. But nothing came to mind, nothing except the feeling in her heart, the madness in her head.

“Love,” she moaned her answer, and Geralt _growled._

“Love,” he replied, pulling back and thrusting forward sharply, Yen’s body jolting with the force behind his hips. “Love,” he repeated, dipping his head down to suck at her neck, biting a bruise into the soft skin there. His shoulders hunched forward pressed Yen’s legs almost against the mattress, forcing her hips up and pussy at his mercy. And he _knew_ what this position would do, how he could pound her sweet spot until she screamed…. 

Of course he went for it.

“Love, love, love,” he cried as he fucked her. He wanted to close his eyes, how _easy_ it would be to simply give in to the sensations. But he wanted to look down, wanted to see Yen’s face twist in ecstasy, wanted to see her eyes go unfocused and roll back, wanted to see her bite her lip and mouth drop open in awe of the pleasure he was giving her. 

“Yen, **_YEN_**!” He was yelling. He didn’t care. He should be embarrassed, he _should be_ , but merciful gods, Yen was under him _and she was cumming on his cock._ He stilled suddenly and moaned wantonly, downright whorish. Aching, _aching_ at the rush inside him, the pressure building up, so close to the edge. “Oh fuck, Yen!!”

“Come in me, Witcher!” Yen cried, digging her nails into Geralt’s lower back and pulling him forward and it was over instantly. Geralt pumped pulse after pulse of cum into her, groaning in pleasured agony as her pussy clamped around him and milked him for every drop. 

Yen was shaking and laughing as Geralt finally sat back, letting her legs drop from his shoulders. She wiped beads of sweat off her forehead with a shaking hand, grinning triumphantly.

“What?” Geralt couldn’t help but grin down at her. She swiped her hand at his shoulder playfully and he had her wrist pinned above her head again in the blink of an eye. “Hm?”

“Just….. still good…. always better,” Yen sighed happily. Geralt hummed his agreement and kissed her softly, caressing her lips and tasting her. His cock was softening inside her but he had no desire to pull out. He preened at the thought of stopping her full of his cum, keeping her sated and stuffed. His cock twitched and he moaned in discomforted pleasure. It was too soon even for a Witcher to go again…

But give him a couple minutes…

He’d show Yennefer how much better it could still get. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ll never be sorry for letting these two be in love.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!!
> 
> As always please leave a comment! Comments help the writer do the thing more quickly. And also helps her not go insane during quarantine.  
> Woo!


End file.
